I'm Here For You
by The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien
Summary: She doesn't feel like the most important object in the world. She's just the home of her three boys whom she promised to look out for and protect. She's a '67 Chevy Impala and she has her own story to tell. Image from GaterGirl79
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So I've gotten tired of waiting for the entirely Impala-based episode of 'Supernatural' and decided to write the car's history from construction to the present. I'm still working on my 'Family Ties' series, but this has been in my head for a while.

As far as spoilers, anything goes and there will be stuff from all 7 seasons thus far.

* * *

><p>SUPERNATURAL: I'm Here For You<p>

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter 1 - The Start of Greater Things<em>**

**_x_**

She remembers the day she was born.

Well, sort of.

Not that she only sort of remembers being born, but rather the fact that she wasn't exactly 'born' per se.

It was more like 'built'.

Her first memory after coming off the Chevrolet assembly line was of a young man sucking on a lollipop and grinning as he said, "Big things planned for you, baby. Big things. You've got one hell of a destiny ahead of you."

She wondered at the time what that meant. A destiny? She was just a car! Okay, so she was a gorgeous, knock your socks off, 'wow, can you believe I own something this cool?' car, but still… A destiny? There was a reason she was here… now? As she wondered what fate might have in store for her, she was loaded onto a truck and sent to a local car dealership.

xxx

Her first owner, Sal Moriarty, was good to her. He was a man of faith who treated her like a princess and always kept her clean, polished, and running like new. For some cars, this would have been enough, but she dreamed of more. At night, when Sal drove her along a long and winding road giving out free bibles to the less fortunate, she wanted to live like this forever. Her tires burning up the asphalt, the wind against her body and glass, headlights burning through the dark of night… that was what she was meant to be doing.

Sadly, it was almost a blessing when Sal died and she ended up at that used car lot in Lawrence, Kansas.

True, there were a lot of other cars and most of them were newer than her, but she knew right down to the depth of her chassis that soon, the right person—her destined owner—would find her. She knew now—more like believed, actually—that she truly had a destiny and her greatest desire was to fulfill it

But as the weeks passed and she watched the other cars be driven away, she wondered if maybe that the guy who had spoken to her first had been wrong, Maybe she was just destined to sit here forever… alone and unused, gathering dust.

"Hey, beautiful."

She would have smiled if she could have. The young man who had spoken wore a leather jacket that had seen better days but his smile was warm as he lovingly stroked her hood.

Still grinning, the guy let his eyes roam over every inch of her as he said, "You don't know me yet, baby… but someday you will." He looked up at another young man looking at a VW van and then back at her, smirking. "I'll make sure of that."

She watched as 'Dean Van Halen' convinced John Winchester to buy her instead of the van. And when John sat behind her wheel for the very first time, she knew then and there that she was on her way to becoming whatever it was that she was meant to be.

A week later, however, the Impala was surprised when Mary Campbell started talking to her on a cool, moonlit night. Until now, the young woman seemed to glare at the car and the Impala wasn't sure what she was supposed to have done to hurt Mary.

"Look," Mary said, feeling just a bit foolish to be talking to a car as though it were another person. "I don't hate you. It's just that you're not a family car. You're…" She paused and looked around, making sure there was no one about to see her talking to a vehicle. "You're a hunter's car."

"_I beg your pardon?"_ the Impala wanted to ask. She wasn't sure what to make of that. She'd seen Sal Moriarty go off on a hunting trip once, but the friend who had driven owned an old beat-up truck that bounced down the road as it headed out of sight. When Sal had come back later in the evening, there were three dead deer in the back seat—something that would have made her cringe, had she been able to.

But that wasn't the kind of hunting Mary had been talking about and over the next few years, Mary would occasionally come outside and lay down on the Impala's hood, looking up at the stars while she quietly told the car about years of demon and monster hunts when she was younger.

The Impala didn't mind the stories. In fact, she loved hearing them. She also found it funny knowing so much about the young woman who used to dislike her.

When Mary gave birth to her first son—Dean—the Impala felt a strange… something stirring within her. A connection to the young child… a sense that they knew each other from somewhere.

When Sam was born, the Impala was surprised when Mary went against John on the subject of getting a bigger car to accommodate their growing family.

But 6 months later, the Impala found out why.

The night was cool and threatening snow when Mary came outside and sat in the Impala, gently stroking the dash with one hand.

The Impala was curious when Mary started crying and after a moment, Mary said, "Take care of my family. I can't even explain it, but I know something terrible is going to happen and I'm not going to make it. If that happens, take care of John, Dean, and Sammy. No matter what."

The Impala couldn't actually respond, but she promised Mary Winchester that she would always be there to take care of her boys.

xxx

Two nights later there was a fire.

The Impala watched helplessly as the blaze started in Sam's nursery and she knew that this was what Mary had been referring to the other night. But just as she started to panic, watching the flames consume the upper level of the house and wondering about Dean, Sam, and John, 4-year-old Dean came hurrying out of the house as fast as he could, his 6-month-old brother, Sammy, clutched tight in his arms.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said to his little brother as he watched the house, wondering what was going on.

Suddenly, John ran outside, scooping Dean and Sam up in his arms as he ran towards the Impala just as the nursery room windows blew out, flames pouring out the gaping holes.

It would be almost dawn before John finally was allowed to get his family out of there and to a nearby motel where he and his two sons slept like the dead in one of the lumpy beds in the room.

* * *

><p>AN: Next chapter, Missouri Mosley meets the Impala and introduces John Winchester to Bobby Singer and the Harvelles. (That kinda sounds like a country music group now that I think about it.)


	2. Chapter 2

AUTHOR'S NOTES: After the first chapter I decided to switch the POV from third person to first person which I hope makes for a better read. It also makes it easier to write the Impala's perspective on things.

Also, stuff written in italics is the Impala's thoughts. FYI.

Chapter 2

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><p>It was one of Mary's old friends that suggested that John go to Missouri Mosley, a psychic who lived in Lawrence.<p>

As John parked me outside the woman's house, I still felt numb as I watched John and Dean get out of the car, John still holding Sam tightly to him. But before Dean followed his dad inside, he patted my front headlight and said, "It's okay. Daddy'll fix this."

I wanted to tell the little boy that there were some things you just couldn't fix when Dean suddenly gave me a small hug and the briefest of kisses on the corner of my hood. When he ran back to John, I heard Dean say, "The 'pala's sad because Mommy's gone."

I was sad that Mary was dead, but felt relieved that at least my boys were safe.

My boys…

Those words seemed to echo in Mary Winchester's voice and I remembered the promise I'd made her only a few nights ago. John, Dean, and Sam were _my_ boys now—mine to watch over and protect. But could I do it? I was just a car! How was I supposed to protect three humans?

But that wasn't what was really getting to me as I sat in the driveway of Missouri's house.

No, what was bothering me was that I'd had no way to warn the Winchesters that something was after them. I couldn't tell John or even Dean about what Mary had said and I _knew_ that if I had, Mary would still be alive.

I don't know how much time had passed from when the boys went inside, but I was startled out of my guilt and thoughts when someone smacked my rear passenger-side door.

"Now, enough of that!" a stern, yet kind-looking black woman said, frowning at me. "None of this your fault, honey," she added, putting a comforting hand on my hood. _'Okay, well, that's easy for you to say, lady,'_ I thought, irritably. _'You're not the one who just inherited full responsibility for three boys because their mother told you to keep them safe.'_

But apparently Missouri Mosley wasn't done with me yet. The psychic gave me a glare and if I'd had lungs I would have given a resigned sigh. _'Okay… let's hear it.'_

"This is NOT your fault," Missouri repeated again. "There's no way you could have done anything for Mary. Something dark and evil killed her. Something you wouldn't have stood a chance against."

That hadn't occurred to me and as John got back into the car with the boys and Missouri and we all headed back towards the house.

xx

In the daylight, the damage didn't seem so terrible, but the memory of what happened that night and seeing the boarded up windows shocked me so much it must have somehow manifested physically because I suddenly stalled right in the middle of the street.

John stared out at my hood, no doubt wondering if I had a problem with my engine, but the woman now sitting in the passenger seat just placed a gentle hand on my dash and said, "It's okay, baby. We're all in this together."

She was right. I kept going until I was back in the driveway and when John turned the ignition off, I berated myself for letting my emotions get the better of me. I had to do better. If not for John and for Mary, then for the two small boys now sleeping in my backseat.

After Missouri and John spoke in quiet voices so as to not wake Sam and Dean, I watched the psychic give John a piece of paper with something scribbled down on it. I wondered what was written on it, but I didn't have to think on it long. After John dropped Missouri off at her home, he stopped at a local thrift shop for some clothes and supplies and we started heading north.

xxxx

'_You wanna tell me where I'm going?'_ I thought after we kept going into the night. But John was quiet, no doubt consumed with his thoughts. _'Look, talk to me, John,'_ I said, after a while when I could practically feel his emotions building to critical levels. _'You want to rant, scream? Bring it on! This is _my_ fault anyway! Just let it out! Hit me with it!"_

"I should have known something was up," John finally said, quietly, as he looked in the rear view mirror at Dean who was asleep in the back, his little arms wrapped around Sammy who was also sleeping. "Mary seemed quiet… distant. I should have done something."

We both should have. But there was no way to change the past and all John and I could do was think about what happened next. After a while, John started talking about what Missouri had told him about what was really out there. I already knew from Mary, but as he talked aloud about the evil that lurked in the shadows, I could tell that John was thinking of revenge. If there was something tangible—some physical being—responsible for his wife's murder, then that meant that there was something to fight.

xx

It was late morning when we finally pulled into an old scrap yard and parked next to an old house at the end of the drive. I was grateful for the rest but I kept watch on Sam and Dean while John went up to the front door and knocked.

The man who opened the door was about John's height and had a scruffy-looking mustache and beard. He frowned—first at John and then at me. "Can I help you with somethin'?" The stranger asked, cautiously.

"Yeah," John replied, nodding. "Missouri Mosley sent me."

The other man got a knowing look on his face and he nodded once before stepping aside to let John inside. "Well, come on in. Let's talk."

Before John could reply, my rear driver-side door opened as Dean woke up and got out of the car, bringing Sammy with him.

The stranger looked from John to the boys and then at me. And the feeling of dislike just increased the longer I watched him. John made introductions and the stranger introduced himself as Bobby Singer.

After talking for a moment or two, Bobby told John to go on ahead inside the house and he—Bobby—would put me around back.

Oh, I don't think so, buddy.

I let my driver's side door stick a bit which didn't put Bobby off one iota. Neither did the refusing let the door close all the way when he finally did get my door to open. When he stuck the key in and turned the ignition, I faltered on starting for a while then did a false start before faltering again.

"Huh," Bobby said, getting out and lifting up my hood before going to grab a set of tools. But just as he started to check the engine, I creaked ominously before letting the hood fall, missing Bobby by about an inch. _'Take that!'_ I thought, feeling annoyed that John was allowing this guy to work on me.

"Might just want to give up," Bobby said, look at me, calmly. "You're not the first tough customer I've had."

That was probably true, but I was tired, I was strung out and more than anything I wanted to feel better equipped to help my boys deal with whatever had killed Mary.

xxxxxxxxxx

The next two weeks, I sat out amongst the old junkers while Bobby started teaching John about what was out there.

One afternoon, John sat on my hood, writing in a leather-bound journal. He looked even more lined than usual and it didn't take a genius to figure out that he was thinking about Mary. "I've got to find this thing," he said, resolvedly. Whether he was talking to me or himself I didn't know. But I was absolutely on board.

Another car pulled up next to me and I could see that the driver wasn't much younger than John as he got out. A moment later, I watched a woman getting out on the other side and in her arms, she held a baby girl maybe a few months older than Sam.

John stiffened, putting his journal away as the family approached, looking a bit curious and at the same time, wary.

"Hey," the woman said, cordially. "I'm Ellen Harvelle. This is my husband, Bill." Perching the baby on her hip, she smiled as she added, "And this is our daughter, Jo."

"John Winchester," John replied, holding out a hand for the couple to shake. "You guys know Bobby, or…?"

As I watched John and Bill Harvelle talk, I also found myself keeping an eye on Ellen. There was something about her that reminded me of Mary. Ellen didn't seem to like the whole monster hunting thing as she kept shooting glares at her husband but she had the tough look of someone who could hold her own in a fight.

There were times I wished I could go back to just being a normal family car.

* * *

><p>AN: Next chapter will be about the various times the Winchesters have gotten hurt while hunting.


	3. Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So because of the latest episode of 'Supernatural' I decided to take out my frustrations on the boys and the Impala. Although, there was a moment with young Dean and Bobby I decided to use for this chapter.

Chapter 3

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><p><em>5 Years Later<em>

I was going as fast as I could down the dark, rainy road.

John was driving, a white-knuckle grip on my steering wheel as we raced for the hospital.

xx

It was supposed to be just a simple haunting job. As Bobby had called it, a 'salt and burn'.

But Dean had wanted to find out what his father had been up to and Sammy wasn't about to be left behind by his big brother.

But things had gone downhill fast. One moment I was parked on the path winding through a dark cemetery, watching my boys head towards an old grave. Dean was carrying a shovel and little Sammy was holding a box of salt.

But a short while later, John came tearing towards me, with Dean lying limply in his arms. I was frantically looking around for Sam when I noticed that John was piggybacking him. But as Sam got in the car, he whimpered painfully.

Once behind my wheel, John raced out of the cemetery and back out onto the main road.

It was a week before I saw what the full damage was when the boys were released from the hospital.

Dean had a bandage on his forehead and his right arm was fully encased in a blue cast. He winced heavily as he got settled in the front seat.

Sam was marginally better, but he was limping pretty badly as he got in the car.

xxx

Once we were back at Bobby's house, I was able to get the full report as John told Bobby what had happened.

The digging had been fine. John had been about to break through the dead guy's pine box with the shovel when he'd been distracted by the ghost throwing Dean a fair distance away. Dean had busted a couple ribs, broken his arm, and hit his head on a grave marker, requiring 4 stitches and a hospital stay to be safe.

Sam had been thrown as well, but landed in the grave feet first which resulted in multiple lacerations of both legs.

I felt a surge of anger at John. He should have left Sammy and Dean here with Bobby where they'd be safe! What the hell kind of father just let his kids tag along right into danger?

But my anger ebbed when I noticed that Sammy had fallen asleep in my backseat.

It's a good thing cars can't get gray hairs.

* * *

><p><em>1 Year Later<em>

My first rebuild was because of a bear.

That's right… a bear.

A big, brown, lumbering, half-asleep _bear._

John, Sam, and Dean, had just spent two weeks out in the woods working on tracking something called a wendigo that was attacking campers. As we headed out of the state park late at night, the huge animal seemed to come out of nowhere.

John turned the steering wheel hard but seeing that the collision would send me into the trees, I turned my wheels just enough to miss the trees.

Unfortunately, I still hit the bear which responded by hitting me back. The damn animal broke my windshield and the driver's side windows—front _and_ back—and put some huge dents in the doors and my front end before starting to climb up on my hood.

I felt in a world of hurt when there were the sounds of multiple gunshots as both Dean and John fired at the bear. I barely waited for John to hit the gas as I raced down the road towards the ranger station finally giving up about 20 feet away.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

My return to consciousness was some time later as I bumped and bounced down the highway. I recognized Bobby Singer's tow truck and at least felt relieved that I wasn't getting stuck in some small town, no-name repair shop. I couldn't see if Sam and Dean were in the truck's cab with Bobby but the fact that John wasn't there made me worry.

It wasn't until we got to the salvage yard that I had a chance to see my boys. Both had a face full of cuts and scratches, but there didn't seem to be any lasting damage. But Dean had a such a guilty look on his face that I wondered what had happened. Once Bobby put me in the repair zone, he started making a list of what parts and repairs I needed.

But after a while, he was distracted when he heard steady gunshots coming from nearby. I watched Bobby disappear for a minute or two and when he came back into view he had Dean in tow.

Dean held a double barrel rifle in his hands and his expression was anger mingling with guilt. "It's my fault Dad's in the hospital, Bobby. My aim was off!"

But Bobby wasn't going to let the kid beat himself up. I saw a flash of something go across the older man's face as he knelt down to face Dean. "You did what you could, Dean. Yeah, your dad's beat up. And yeah, you accidentally hit him instead of that bear. But that is NOT your fault. The whole world doesn't rest on _your_ shoulders, Dean Winchester." After a moment, Bobby seemed to have a thought and he stood up. "Now how about you help me fix the Impala up?"

Dean hesitated a moment before he set the hunting rifle down and said, "Dad said I should leave the car stuff to him and just focus on how to shoot stuff right."

Okay, that was it. Next time John went to work on me, I was going to give him one HELL of a hard time.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The next few days, I saw Sam and Dean acting more like kids than they had in a long time. I also got the full story about the night with the bear as Dean talked to Bobby while the two of them worked on getting me good as new.

Dean's aim had been off and he'd accidentally shot John in the shoulder which would have been bad enough, but when the bear attacked me, he also managed to get some good swipes at John.

So while John was recovering in the hospital, Bobby was charged with keeping up Sam and Dean's weapons training as well as getting me fixed up.

But while Bobby was on top of things as getting my repairs done and making sure the boys did their school work and everything, he seemed reluctant to drill Sam and Dean as hard as John had, trying to make it more like a game, rather than strict training.

And then one evening while Bobby was giving my exterior a good washing, John called saying that Bill Harvelle was picking him up to help on a case.

Thankfully, Bobby took the call outside on his cordless phone so I could hear the one-sided conversation. "Hey, John. What, so soon? Sure you're up for that? If you say so. Yeah, Dean's aim is getting better. No, we didn't shoot rifles today. Test drove the Impala to the park and threw a ball around." Bobby paused and frowned irritably at something John said. "He's a kid, John. They both are. They're entitled. Yeah… I know I ain't their dad. But you know what? If I was, I sure as HELL wouldn't be schlepping them all over the country on some revenge mission!" With that, Bobby hung up and tossed the phone onto the workbench nearby.

Bobby had a point. Hell, I agreed with him wholeheartedly. But John also knew that he wouldn't always be around to protect his sons and Sam and Dean would eventually need to learn how to defend themselves. But for Chevy's sake (A/N: You know, instead of Christ's sake), they were just kids! They should be worrying about school and making the little league team.

Besides, anyone who wanted to get at my boys what have to go through me first. I'd already handled a bear. I could take anything those supernatural fiends could dish out.

* * *

><p><em>13 Years Later<em>

The night Sam left for college was one I'll never forget. It was the legendary fight between Sam and John and the situation was made worse because Dean was already laid up in the hospital after getting thrown out of a second story window by a ghost. The bushes nearby had cushioned the fall, but Dean was still lucky to be alive.

All the way from the hospital to the abandoned house that was home for the time being, John and Sam didn't breathe a word to each other, or even acknowledge that the other was in the car. No one had yet washed Dean's blood off of my backseat and the tension between father and son was tangible.

But when John parked me in the driveway, Sam couldn't wait to get out of the car. But before he got halfway to the house, John said, "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

I watched, helpless to do anything, as Sam stopped and turned, his expression angry and hurt as he said, "I'm 18, Dad. I can do whatever I want and I _don't_ want to turn into you, you obsessed, arrogant, asshole!"

Whoa! Okay, I'd seen Sam upset with his father before, but this was new. And it got worse. Both Winchesters were screaming and suddenly, Sam shoved his father hard in the chest. "Just stay the fuck away from me!" Sam shouted, angrily, before pulling his arm back and punching John in the face as hard as he could.

John fell to the ground, watching in shock as Sam went into the house, only to come out a few minutes later with his duffle bag over his shoulder. John slowly got to his feet, one hand on my hood to keep himself steady.

But I wasn't having it. If John wanted to do what I thought he was going to do, he could do it alone. I rolled a couple inches back, out from under John's hand and he seemed to straighten up as he looked at Sam. "You walk away from your brother and I, don't even think about coming back."

Sam looked as though I had personally run him down. And in the moonlight, I saw a single tear fall down his cheek before he turned and started walking down the street. I saw red as I watched John get to his feet and go back into the house alone. I wanted to run John Winchester down or… or something. My God!

xxxxxxxxxx

A week later, when Dean came home from the hospital, he looked terrible. His left leg was in a cast up to his hip, and his right arm was in a full cast as well.

In my back seat, he leaned back against the rear passenger-side door, looking like a puppy someone had kicked. The kid didn't say anything as John loaded the car and got behind the wheel but once we were all heading down the interstate, Dean sat up and looked at his father. "Soon as I heal up… I think we need to split up, Dad."

John stiffened at that and he said, "Your brother just walked out and now _you_ want to leave?"

"Do you even _get_ why Sam left, Dad?" Dean snapped, angrily. "He got a _full scholarship _to _Stanford_! All the moving around, all the different schools, and Sammy still managed to graduate high school as a damn valedictorian and get one of the best colleges in the country to pay for him to go there! You should have hugged him and told him you were proud of him instead of kicking the kid to the curb like a bag of trash!"

"_Sam_ was the one who walked away!" John shouted back.

"And you just stood there and let him, didn't you?" Dean said, looking out my back window. "Damnit, Dad… When are you gonna stop being a dick? First Bobby, then your own son… Nice set of people skills."

Father and son didn't say another word to one another for the rest of the trip and two months later, Dean didn't even bother saying good-bye as he emptied John's belongings out of the Impala and drove away into the night while his father slept.

* * *

><p>AN: Next chapter kicks off the canon episodes told from the Impala's POV. Suggestions are welcome!

Now for those who are worried about if I'm continuing my story 'Pieces of the Whole', I AM working on it. My problem is that I'm looking for an actress who can play my OFC, Fiona Brendon so suggestions for that are welcome as well.


	4. Chapter 4

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So now we're getting into the scenes from the actual episodes. And while I started with the pilot episode, I did do a few small tweaks even though I did keep the ending of the episode.

Next chapter will probably cover the episode 'Home' although suggestions for scenes and episodes are welcome.

Chapter 4

* * *

><p><em>Pilot<em>

* * *

><p>It wasn't my first trip to Stanford.<p>

Over the past four years, Dean and I would swing through Palo Alto every now and then just to check on Sam. Usually Dean and I just watched from a distance till one day I decided that Dean needed an excuse to actually talk to his brother. I'd purposely stalled on the campus and while Dean fiddled with my engine, I waited until Sam came over.

But this time was different. Dean had been trying to get a hold of John for more than a week and there had been no reply.

So now we were at Stanford University to do something that—honestly—neither of us really wanted to do—retrieve Sam.

I was parked behind the apartment building, watching as Dean climbed up the fire escape to get to the window of Sam's apartment when I caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure lurking around the corner. The figure seemed to be studying me for a moment but before I could think of any way to warn Dean, he'd gone and once again I was alone.

A few minutes later, I heard voices nearby and swiftly recognized them as belonging to my boys. Dean was trying to convince Sam to come with and Sam was adamant about remaining at school.

"Dude, why the hell is your girlfriend tagging along?" Dean asked his brother as he came out of the building's basement followed by Sam and a young blonde woman I'd never seen before.

"She knows, Dean," Sam replied, and I could hear the guilt and embarrassment in his voice. When Dean gave him an astonished look, Sam shrugged. "Bad case of the flu last year. I was drugged to the gills, and I guess I started talking."

Dean seemed to relax just slightly. He knew as well as I did that the top two ways to get Sammy to spill his guts were either get him doped up on cold medicine or get him drunk. I still remembered once when Sam was 15 and Dean had given him a couple shots of whiskey in my backseat before stitching up a nasty gash on Sam's shoulder. Sam was already loopy from cold meds and in no time he was spilling every single thought in his head.

But Dean still looked wary as he opened my trunk and lifted up the false bottom before running through the case John had been working on.

Meanwhile, Sam's girlfriend perched on the corner of my hood, watching the Winchesters talk. "They always like this?" the girl asked under her breath. I knew she was likely asking me, but of course I couldn't reply.

Were Sam and Dean always like this? Yes and No. When the boys worked together it was something awesome. They were a team and always had each other's back. But there was something about the boys now that made me worry.

Sam's girlfriend seemed to sense it, too, and when Sam agreed to go with Dean, she stood up and said, "I'm coming with you, Sam."

Dean laughed at that and said, "Sweetheart, no offense, but this isn't some weekend drive. You're not going."

"Jess, he's right," Sam chimed in, looking at his girlfriend. He seemed worried about something but for the life of me I couldn't begin to guess what. "Look, you've got work this weekend and—"

"No," Jess insisted, stubbornly. "If you're going, I'm going, Sam. If you're worried about me being in the middle of your… hunting trip, I'll be fine. Excuse me." With that, I watched her go back into the building.

Sam just stared for a moment, almost as if he was unsure of what had just happened.

But Dean actually chuckled and when Sam turned to look at him, he said, "You sure can pick 'em, Sammy."

"It's 'Sam'… jerk," Sam replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Whatever, bitch," Dean muttered as he closed my trunk. But when he faced his brother again, his expression so mirrored John's that it was a little eerie. "I'll tell you this: If she comes, it's on _you_ to keep her out of my hair. I don't have time to babysit a civilian."

"Jess can take care of herself," Sam assured Dean as he headed back into the apartment building.

Dean sat on my hood and stared at me for a while. "What do you think? Am I asking for trouble?" He looked back up at the open window of Sam and Jess's apartment and sighed. "I know I don't _need_ Sammy on this, but… I miss him."

When he looked back at me, I once again remembered years and years ago when I saw 'Dean Van Halen' at Rainbow Motors back in Lawrence, Kansas. It had been about 3 years since I'd finally made the connection between that Dean and my Dean. That Dean had been older and he seemed more battle scarred. I'd always wondered what had happened to my Dean to turn him into that.

xxx

An hour later, the four of us were heading towards Jericho. Sam was up front in the passenger seat sleeping like a rock and Jessica was in the backseat.

Dean, of course, was driving.

It hadn't surprised me at all when Sam nodded off 20 minutes into the drive. Ever since he was a baby, Sam was always lulled to sleep by the sound of my engine.

"Does he always fall asleep that quickly?" Jessica asked, curiously as she watched her boyfriend.

I caught Dean's tiny smile as he nodded and knew he was fighting the urge to ruffle Sam's hair like he'd done when the boys were younger. "Only in the Impala," he replied, quietly, not wanting to wake his brother. "When we were kids, Sammy would always conk out about 5-10 minutes into a long trip."

Jess seemed to mull that over and I could see the questions in Dean's eyes when she said, "He never falls asleep that quick at home."

Dean said nothing but I knew what he was thinking. Sam didn't go to sleep fast in the apartment because it wasn't really home.

_I_ was home… And as I watched my boys, I felt an overwhelming surge of joy that I had them both back again.

* * *

><p>We went all through the night and I wanted to smile when I noticed that Jessica had also fallen asleep shortly into the drive. I'm sure she'd just meant to close her eyes for a moment but soon she was lightly snoring as she lay across my backseat.<p>

Even Dean smiled as he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Jess stir slightly in her sleep. "What do you think, baby?" Dean said to me as he turned his eyes back to the road. "Think she's up to handling Sammy?"

I honestly couldn't have replied if I'd wanted to. But as dawn arrived and Dean pulled into a gas station to fill me up, I couldn't help thinking that Jessica reminded me of Mary. She had that same stubbornness and tough nature… but I could also see that Jess was also a kind, generous person who wanted to help people.

While Dean went inside to pay—no doubt using a fake credit card—I watched Jess and Sam who finally woke up, stretching as best they could. After a while, Dean came back out holding up a loaded bag. "Breakfast, kids!" he said with a grin before tossing the bag at his brother who had opened the door to better stretch his legs.

"Great, I'm starving!" Jess exclaimed which would have made me laugh out loud had I been able to, especially when I saw her reaction to Dean's idea of 'breakfast'. I watched Dean who seemed to be expecting Jessica to raise a fuss, but he seemed ever so slightly impressed when the girl just dug into the bag and pulled out a bottle of orange juice, a bag of chips and an oversized rice krispie treat.

Sam, meanwhile, turned down the junk food as he preferred to rummage through Dean's cassette tapes looking for something half-way decent. Pshh! _'Good luck, Sammy,'_ I thought as Dean got back behind the wheel. _'I've been trying for the past 5 years.' _"Seriously, man," Sam insisted. "You _gotta_ update your cassette tape collection!"

"Why?" Dean asked, looking like he didn't see the problem.

"Well, for starters, they're cassette tapes," Jess piped up from the back.

I had to admit, I admired her spunk for bringing it up.

"Second," Sam added, looking through the tapes. "Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica? It's the greatest hits of the mullet rock."

"Yeah, well, house rules, Sammy," Dean snapped as he grabbed the Metallica tape and put it into my player. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

'_No, Dean,'_ I said to myself as I jammed the tape just as the music started before switching the radio to a country station. _'__**Car**__ picks the music, driver shuts his cakehole, and shotgun laughs his ass off.'_

Sure enough, as Dean turned my engine over and started back on the road, Sam was laughing as he said, "See? Even your baby's tired of the music."

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean grumbled as he shut the music off.

* * *

><p>While Sam and Dean worked their case, I somehow ended up playing babysitter to Jessica who didn't seem really bothered by the fact that her boyfriend and his brother were going around trying to solve a series of unexplained deaths by lying and using fake IDs and credit cards.<p>

I couldn't decide if Jessica's blasé nature was the fact that she had accepted what Sam really did, or if Sam just had never really told her the full truth.

I was betting on door #2 since Sam had always been secretive, even when he was drugged or drunk.

But while my boys went to talk to the girlfriend of the most recent victim, Jess went to find the library and do some research of her own.

Later that night, while we all headed back to the bridge, Jess ran through what she'd found about the spirit we were hunting—a woman named Constance Welch who had jumped off the same bridge back in 1981.

As I watched my boys and Jessica, I wondered what would happen to Sammy and Jess after all this. Jessica was starting to get a better look at the guy she loved, and I was wondering if this would drive them apart, or forge their bond even stronger.

Suddenly, it was as if someone or something had taken over me and my engine turned over. I tried to fight back but I couldn't stop myself as I started speeding towards my boys. I could feel the spirit as though she were actually behind my wheel and just as I was about to run Sam and Dean down, I finally managed to partially get control back and I turned sharply away from the boys just as they jumped over the edge of the bridge.

"Sam!" Jessica shouted as she raced to where her boyfriend had gone over. Looking down, I felt a wave of fear wash over me. What if the boys were hurt? What if they were…? But I felt a surge of relief as I saw Jessica's body relax for a second before she reached down to help one of the boys back up.

A short while later, Dean was making sure my brief stint of being possessed hadn't caused and further problems and Jess was making sure her boyfriend was okay.

For her first life and death scenario, Jess didn't look as scared as I thought she'd be but once we were heading towards the only motel in town, Jess seemed to become a bit jumpier.

* * *

><p>A day later, as Dean drove back to Palo Alto, I thought about the Woman in White case. Sam had ultimately been the one to stop Constance Welch by crashing into her old house after she'd popped up while Sam was driving me.<p>

As I thought about Sam and Jessica, I found myself hoping that Jess would use the past few days as the perfect example of how much Sam needed her. He needed that normal life so badly and I felt guilty that I had—in part—pulled Sam back into this cruel, unforgivable world.

"Sam, there's something I need to say," Jess said after a while. She saw Sam look at her in the rear-view mirror and when she saw Dean focus his attention on the road. "Sam, I love you. And all this… I don't like it, but I know that it's part of who you are. And in case you're wondering… I still want to be with you."

"You mean that?" Sam replied and he'd quickly turned in his seat to look at his girlfriend.

"I really do," Jessica replied, smiling as she leaned forward to take Sam's hand before the two of them shared a kiss.

When they separated, I saw the hurt in Dean's eyes, even as he congratulated Sam on hanging onto his girl. Dean knew as much as I did that Sam wasn't going to stick around. He and Jess were going back to Stanford and Dean and I would be going after John somewhere in Colorado.

But when Dean dropped his brother and Jessica off, he watched the two for a while before starting my engine again. But before he could even put me in drive, I suddenly put my high beams on as I'd spotted the shadowy figure I'd seen before. Thankfully, Dean had seen the figure as well and he was out like a shot as he raced inside the apartment building, running after his brother as fast as he could possible go.

I kept up prayer after prayer that Sam, Dean, and Jess would be okay but when I saw Dean pulling Sam from the building I knew that Jessica was dead.

Even more, I knew that it had been the same thing that had killed Mary—the look in Sam's eyes clearly told me that much.

Later, as the sun started to rise over Stanford University, I swore that whatever had killed Mary and Jessica was going to die even if I had to do it myself.


	5. Chapter 5

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I always think of this as one of the most emotionally charged episodes of the whole series and it's definitely one of my favorites. So doing this episode from the Impala's POV opened up some insights that I thought would be very interesting indeed, especially with bringing in Missouri Mosley again. (Remember, she's met the Impala before.)

Now… I have a request for you readers. My other SPN/NCIS story is hitting some snags and in an effort to figure out the rest of the story line, please go over to 'Pieces of the Whole' and register your opinion on the most recent chapter.

Thank you very kindly.

* * *

><p><em>Home<em>

* * *

><p>It was eerie how quiet Dean was as he drove. In fact, I was starting to get worried since he hadn't even put any music on since we started out from Nebraska a couple hours back. But even Sam was being withdrawn and it wasn't until we passed a highway sign that I understood why.<p>

Lawrence, Kansas.

We were going back home and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared half to death about that idea. I didn't know why we were going there and as far as I knew, there weren't any cases in town.

As we headed down the highway, I wondered what could possibly be compelling Dean to go home—to the place where everything started.

We'd come close before—the Winchesters and I—but we'd never even driven through the town until now. Even when it was the fastest way to another job, John or Dean always detoured around Lawrence.

But now we were going back and I would have given anything to keep my boys from dealing with whatever was pulling them back.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pulling up in front of the house, I wanted more than anything to give Dean a hug and reassure him that it would all be okay. I wanted to be human so I could go with my boys to help them face their past.

"You gonna be alright, man?" Sam asked, watching his brother closely.

Dean didn't give a real answer, instead, he just said, "Let me get back to you on that."

Sam hesitated, almost as though he was waiting for Dean to get out of the car first. But when Dean just sat still, looking at his old house, Sam opened my passenger door and got out quickly, knowing that Dean wouldn't let him go up by himself.

Before Dean followed his brother, however, he put a hand on the corner of my hood and squeezed lightly—a gesture that reminded me of when he'd been a child and had hugged me after Mary died. "You'll wait right here for me, won't you, baby?" Dean whispered, and for a moment I could see the scared little 4-year-old boy who had carried his baby brother out of the house the night of the fire.

"_I'm not going anywhere, Dean,"_ I wanted to say. And I wouldn't. I'd be right here waiting, just like I'd always been.

xx

The boys were only in the house for maybe half an hour but when they came out, it was very different than when they'd gone in. At first, both boys had been hesitant, afraid, and not sure of what they were getting into.

Now, they were frantic, worried, and anxious. And still scared. Sam and Dean were clearly rattled by something they had learned inside and I again wished I had been with them.

"Okay, if this were any other job," Dean said 10 minutes later as he filled my gas tank. "What would we do?"

Those words seemed to help calm Sam down which I was relieved at since his constant finger drumming on my roof was starting to get annoying. He took a breath and replied, "Try to figure out what we were dealing with. Dig into the history of the house."

"Exactly. Except this time we already know what happened," Dean added, pensively.

"Yeah, but how much do we know?" Sam asked, sounding suddenly younger than 22. "I mean, how much do you actually remember?"

Dean seemed to think for a moment and I knew that he was letting himself—however reluctantly—go back to that night and relive the fire. "Not much," he said at first and even I knew it was a lie. "I remember the fire… the heat… and then I carried you out the front door."

"You did?" Sam asked, wondering why no one had ever told him about that part.

"Yeah," Dean muttered. "And, uh… Well, you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was… was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her."

As the boys talked things out for a bit, I felt something nagging at that back of my consciousness. Some memory that I had pushed aside… something familiar but not quite tangible. I'd felt it back at the house and I wished I knew what it was.

But I pushed all that aside as Sam and Dean got back in and we headed towards the old neighborhood.

xxxx

A few hours later, I found myself parked outside a different house, but one which I also recognized.

Missouri Mosley. I remembered the woman very well and when I watched Sam and Dean go up to her house, I knew that they would be okay.

But my brief moment of reassurance gave way to more and more questions. What was lurking in the old house and why did it choose now to start being active again? From what I could gather from the boys' discussion, it seemed to be a spirit haunting the house and that made me worry more and more. I thought of Mary's death and I knew that ghosts and vengeful spirits were born of violent deaths.

What would happen if Mary's spirit turned out to be what was threatening the family now living in Sam and Dean's old house? Would my boys be able to do what they had to—not physically, but emotionally?

After the fire, Dean had been quiet, not really talking except to John, Sammy, or me. Even at 4 years old, he seemed to understand very quickly that his mom was gone and wasn't coming back.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

It seemed like déjà vu as I was once again pulled from my reverie by the arrival of Missouri Mosley who looked about the same as when I'd first seen her 22 years ago.

Missouri looked me over and gave me an appraising look. "Mm-hmm, I wish I looked as good for my age as you do, baby. You taking good care of these boys?"

'_Trying to,'_ I thought, although I wondered how good a job I was actually doing on that these days.

I guess Missouri must have somehow read my thoughts about the night Sam left for Stanford because she frowned for a moment before giving the boys a look. "You boys need to start being nicer to this old girl," she scolded. 'Old'? Hell, I was only 36 years old for Chevy's sake! "Sorry," Missouri said to me with an apologetic tone. Looking back at Sam and Dean, she added, "That car worries about the two of you. She's trying to look out for you and neither of you makes that job very easy."

"Wait, what?" Dean asked, clearly confused. But as he looked from Missouri to me, the look of confusion gave way to one of understanding.

"Well?" Missouri snapped impatiently. "Are we going to get going or not?"

xxx

When we got back to the house, Missouri seemed to notice that I was bothered by something and frowned as she asked me, "What is it, baby?"

But I couldn't describe it. On the one hand there was something very, very bad in the house but I couldn't shake the presence of something very familiar.

"Um…" Sam started to say as he looked from my dash to Missouri.

"I wouldn't call it possession, exactly," Missouri replied, and I could tell she was talking about me. "It's more like she has her own consciousness. Her own soul, you could say."

Sam and Dean thought about that for a moment before they finally got out of the car, Missouri leading the way up to the house.

Once the three entered the house, a young mother and two kids came out and wandered over to me. The little girl looked to be about 7 and her little brother was probably about 3 years old. The mom was about Dean's age and I could tell by the way she kept her kids close that her husband's absence was recent. The daughter climbed up on my hood and I smiled as she started swinging her legs, remembering when Sam would do the same thing when he was her age.

The young woman hesitantly sat on my hood as well, almost as if she was afraid of getting in trouble for doing it. After a while, Dean, Sam, and Missouri came out of the house and started in my direction.

Sam didn't waste any time as he said, "Jenny, it looks like the house is haunted. That's why all this strange stuff is happening. It's something called a poltergeist. Basically it's a really, really angry ghost."

"So you guys are like ghost hunters?" The little girl asked, looking strangely interested.

"Something like that, Sari," Sam replied, vaguely. Looking at Jenny, he added, "We need to get some supplies, but we'll be back, okay? We're gonna take care of this thing."

"Can I help?" Sari asked, hopefully. And right then and there I saw in this little girl the same spirit and bravery that Dean had when he was that age. And more than anything, that worried me.

Dean and Sam were silent, neither really sure of what to say but they both clearly wanted to keep this kid from becoming like them.

Thankfully, though, Missouri seemed to come to the rescue. Smiling at Sari, she said, "Honey, I know you want to help protect your family, but you just let the boys handle this one, okay? They're professionals," she added, looking over at Sam and Dean, eyes narrowed as she threw in, "Most of the time." Turning back to Jenny, Missouri waved a hand and said, "It's a long story, honey. One that we can get into later."

* * *

><p>That night, Missouri told Jenny to take her kids to the movies and I watched as the psychic and my boys stayed in the house to get rid of the poltergeist.<p>

But after only a minute, I felt a surge of energy surround me and a voice shouted at me, "It's going to kill them! Save them! You promised to keep them safe!"

If I'd had a heart, it would have stopped because I knew that voice. I now recognized the presence I'd felt earlier.

It was Mary Winchester.

I looked at the house in a panic and I wished I could do something to help my boys. _"I can't!"_ I screamed, even as I heard Mary begging me again. _"I can't, I'm sorry!"_

"I trusted you!" Mary's voice screamed, full of anger and anguish. "I trusted you to keep them safe! They were supposed to be safe with you!"

But what the Hell was I supposed to do? I was a car, not a hunter!

And just like that, suddenly everything quieted. I waited… and waited… But nothing else happened and I allowed myself to relax for a moment—especially when Jenny and her kids came back.

xxxxxxx

But a few hours later, when Missouri and my boys came back out of the house, I heard Mary's voice whisper, "It's still here."

Sam seemed to also know that something was still in the house and after he and Dean had taken Missouri back home, the boys came back to their old house and parked across the street.

It wasn't long before whatever was still there presented itself and the boys raced into the house to get Jenny and the kids.

Dean came out first with Jenny in tow and the young mother looked terrified as she stared at the house. I knew that she was thinking of her children still inside and I wished I could reassure her that Sam would bring them out unharmed.

When Sari and her little brother came out of the house alone I felt a surge of panic and terror when Sari said that something had Sam. Dean opened my trunk, grabbing the first sawed-off shotgun he saw and some extra rock salt rounds before making for the front door which had slammed shut of it's own accord.

But even a shut door wouldn't stop Dean from getting to Sam and the older Winchester grabbed an ax from my trunk before attempting to chop the door down.

I wished I was human.

I wanted to hold Sari, Jenny, and little Ritchie and tell them that this was all a bad dream and Sam and Dean would take care of everything.

I wanted to help Dean save Sam.

I wanted to be able to do _anything_ other than just sit there at the curb!

"_Mary, you have to save them!" _I shouted, helplessly. _"_You_ have to save Sam and Dean!"_

"I know." I heard Mary say and there was something sad and resigned in her words. "And I know that you have kept my boys safe… just like I knew you would."

And then, suddenly, Mary was gone. I couldn't feel her presence and after a while, Sam and Dean came out of the house looking tired and weary.

Even after Sam assured Jenny that it was really all over this time, Jenny still looked worried and she seemed reluctant to go back inside.

"I think just for tonight," Jenny said, looking at the boys. "I want to be somewhere I know is safe. There's a motel in town, right?"

Dean was quiet for a moment and finally I thought I saw something resembling a smile as he nodded at me and said, "Actually, you happen to be looking at the safest place in the whole world."

Half an hour later, as they huddled together in my backseat under an old army blanket that had once belonged to John, Jenny and her kids fell into a sound sleep while Sam and Dean lay stretched out on my hood, keeping a silent vigil on the house as well as the family sleeping inside the car.

* * *

><p>My boys stayed a few extra days to help Jenny get the house fixed up and declined any payment in return, although Jenny insisted that she buy the boys dinner before they left town.<p>

As Dean looked at the photographs Jenny had given him of my family before Mary's death, I knew he was thinking of the way his mother had sacrificed herself for him and I knew that was weighing heavily on him.

"The ghost on fire was your mother…wasn't it?" Jenny asked, quietly.

Dean set the pictures down in my backseat and closed the door before nodding. "Yeah."

Jenny wasn't sure of what to say, but she knew what she felt in her heart. "She wasn't trying to hurt Sari, was she? Your mom was trying to protect my daughter."

"I think so," Dean replied, and even though he tried to hide it, I could hear the catch in his voice.

The two were quiet for a while and when Jenny gave Dean a 'thank-you' hug, she wasn't surprised that his hug in return was more like a child looking for comfort from a parent. Pulling away, Jenny saw Dean look away to hide the tears in his eyes but she gently turned his face towards hers and said, "I know your mother loves you…that she's proud of you."

"How do you know that?" Dean asked, shaking his head.

Jenny smiled at Dean and looked from him to Sam and back again before she replied, "Because I know I would be if you were my kids."

xxxxx

We left town shortly after that and I wished I knew how my boys were dealing with everything that had happened.

But what I did know, was that no matter what happened, I had my boys and for worse or for better they had me.

And that was a wonderful thing indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I feel I have to issue something of an apology. This chapter is… different. For starters, it's not told by the Impala.

And then there's the fact that I kinda just started writing without really planning anything out—just letting my brain do what it wanted which is scary enough. So I'm sorry if this is a little weird.

I didn't really put any backstory for this episode simply because unless you just started watching this show from the begginning, you probably know what happens.

* * *

><p><em>In My Time of Dying<em>

_(Non-Impala POVs)_

* * *

><p>Dean felt groggy as he woke up in the hospital after the car crash. He felt oddly floaty, like he was over drugged or something. Getting out of the hospital bed he'd been lying in, he noticed that he was in the standard hospital bottoms and a white t-shirt. Relieved that he wasn't in one of those stupid hospital gowns with no back, Dean headed out of the room, looking for Sam and his father.<p>

But as he wandered the halls, Dean started to feel like something was off, especially when the nurse at the admit desk completely ignored him. Hurrying back to the room he'd woken up in, Dean stopped dead—okay, bad phrasing, he realized—as he saw his body lying in the hospital bed hooked to various tubes and wires.

"Oh, fuck…" Dean breathed, looking at himself. "Oh, man!" But when he looked up, he was surprised to see a strange woman sitting on the other side of the bed in a wheelchair. "Who the Hell are you?" Dean asked, sharply, making the woman look up quickly.

She was about 40 years old—maybe even mid-30's—with a complexion the color of a golden browned pie crust. Her eyes were very dark brown—almost black, really—and she had long black hair tied up in a ponytail which lay over her left shoulder, reaching almost down to the top of her left breast. There were several cuts on her face and neck and a few old scars as well. But somehow, the marks seemed to only enhance her beauty.

The woman just stared at Dean for the longest time, as though she knew him but couldn't remember from where. And Dean gave her a similar look as he let his eyes travel over the stranger's flawless figure. She wore a black t-shirt and it hugged her curves perfectly. When the woman wheeled around Dean's bed, Dean saw that she wore black jeans and shoes as well and there was a watch with a thick, black leather band around her left wrist. There were symbols on the watch's band and as Dean looked closer, he saw that the watch's face was smashed and broken.

"Should get that replaced," Dean commented as he pointed to the watch.

The woman raised her left hand, looking at the watch, and frowned. "It's the time when I lost my family," she said, sadly. "There was a fire… then a car accident." Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. "I can't remember which came first."

Dean nodded, vaguely, and replied, "Yeah, me, my dad, and my brother were in an accident, too." Looking at the woman and the wheelchair she sat in, he found himself asking, "Is that how you got hurt?" When she nodded, Dean asked, "What's your name?"

The woman frowned as she thought. "I-I don't remember," she admitted. She tried to think and the smallest flash of memory popped up. "It's Mary… I think. I don't know. I remember… someone calling me 'Baby'."

Dean just nodded and rubbed his face with one hand. "Okay. Well, that's a start." But as he looked from his inert body to this mystery woman—Mary—another question popped into his head. "So what are you doing in my room?"

Mary shrugged as she looked at Dean's unconscious body. "I had two boys—brothers. You remind me of the oldest."

"The kids weren't yours?" Dean asked, not sure what to make of this scenario.

Mary shook her head. "My boys—their mother died when they were very little. Their father was gone a lot so I was the only home they really knew."

Dean thought about that and he nodded. "I can relate." When Mary gave him a questioning look, he shrugged. "My mom died when I was 4. My little brother was just 6 months old. Dad… wanted to find the thing that killed her." Dean sat on the edge of the bed, just letting himself get lost in the memories of his life. He didn't say anything as Sam finally came into the room followed by a doctor who gave the younger Winchester an update on Dean's condition.

* * *

><p>3 hours later, Sam stood with Bobby Singer in scrap yard looking at the wreckage of the Chevy Impala. "Oh, man…" Sam breathed as he looked at what was left of the car. "Dean is gonna be <em>pissed<em>."

"Look, Sam," Bobby said as he and the younger want walked up to the car. "This just ain't worth a tow." Lifting the trunk lid, he was somewhat surprised to find that the weaponry was mostly undamaged. "I say we empty the trunk and sell the rest for scrap."

"No," Sam insisted as he pulled the smashed remains of his laptop out from the backseat. "Dean would kill us if we did that." He knew how much his brother loved the car. It was practically another member of the family. "When he gets better he's gonna want to fix this."

It wasn't like Bobby didn't understand. Hell, he still drove the old Dodge Charger that had been a birthday gift from his late wife. But the Impala was beyond wreckage. "There's nothing _to fix_," Bobby pressed. "The frame's a pretzel, the engine's ruined… there's barely any parts worth salvaging."

"Listen to me, Bobby," Sam pressed. "If there's only one working part—that's enough. This car… it's the only real home I've ever had. It's all we have left of Mom. We're not just going to give up on her."

"'Her'?" Bobby said with just the slightest hint of a smile. "Starting to sound like your brother, there."

Sam smiled as well and he leaned against the car's hood. "You know when Dean and I worked that job in Lawrence, Kansas a couple months back… Missouri Mosley told us something." Catching Bobby's look, Sam added, "About the Impala."

"What'd she say?" Bobby asked, his curiosity piqued. Missouri had told him about the poltergeist in the house where Mary Winchester had been killed, and Bobby couldn't even imagine how much that must messed with Sam and Dean's heads.

"She said the Impala has her own soul," Sam replied, simply. "I don't know about that for sure… but if it's true, then…"

Bobby just let that sink in and he nodded. "Okay, Sam. You got it."

"Here," Sam said, as though suddenly remembering something. He pulled out the list his dad had given him and handed it over to Bobby. "Dad asked if you would get this stuff for him."

"What does John want with this?" Bobby asked, skimming down the list.

"Protection from the demon," Sam replied, although his tone clearly indicated that he didn't entirely believe his father's words.

Bobby knew that Sam not only had a right to be suspicious, but he was dead on about not believing that the supplies were for protection. "This stuff ain't to keep demons _away_, Sam," the older hunter said after a while before fixing the younger hunter with a look. "You use it to _summon_ one."

* * *

><p>As John Winchester sat next to Dean's hospital bed, he hated himself.<p>

All the years of hunting, of barking orders at his sons, on dragging the kids all over the country on _his_ quest for vengeance…

What the Hell kind of father was he?

John sighed, rubbing his face with one hand as he looked at what he'd done to his oldest son… to Mary's son…

Dean had never questioned, never argued… He did everything John had ever asked of him, giving everything he had and then some. And now he was on death's door because of some stupid revenge mission.

Because John cared more about killing the demon that killed his wife than his own kids.

"I don't deserve you and Sam," John sighed, grimly. "And you boys sure as Hell didn't deserve a screwed up dad like me. You and Sammy should have been playing little league and worrying about girls and homework. That's on me, Dean. But you should have done better, too. You never questioned why I did what I did. You never asked questions, never fought me. You just assumed because I was your dad that I was always right—that I always knew what I was doing."

When Sam had started asking questions and fighting against hunting, John had put on a show of pushing back but he really didn't begrudge his son's desire for a normal life. On the contrary, John always had the dream that some day—after the thing that killed Mary was dead—Dean and Sam would get out of the life, settle down, have families of their own.

"I wish I knew what I was doing, Dean," John finally said, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. "I don't know if I ever did. I mean you just about raised Sammy yourself. You took care of your little brother… you tried to take care of me. You shouldn't have had to do that, Dean. I made you grow up too fast." Tears spilled down his cheeks and he furiously wiped them away. "I am _not_ going to lose you, Dean. I can't. I _promise_ I will find something to get you back."

Unbeknownst to his father, Dean stood in the room, arms crossed and looking like he'd never seen his own dad before. Which was partly true—Dean couldn't remember hearing his dad talk like this. He couldn't remember hearing him admit that he was wrong.

"He loves you," Mary said, looking at Dean's father as she sat next to Dean.

"He's got a funny way of showing it," Dean muttered. When Mary reached out and put her hand on his arm, Dean had a sudden flash of… something. It was strange. He remembered being in the backseat of the Impala, sitting with his mother who had one arm around him even though she was also holding a newborn Sam. Pulling away sharply, Dean looked down at the woman in black. "Who…? _What_ are you?"

But suddenly, the two were sitting in the front seat of the Impala and Mary suddenly looked like she was about 20 years old. She moved her legs tentatively and looked around the car in surprise for a moment. "I remember this," she said, happily.

"Really?" Dean asked, looking more than a bit confused. He was even more confused when Mary slid across the seat so that she was even closer to him. "Because I think I'd remember you."

Mary smiled and reached out a hand to gently caress Dean's cheek but her eyes were pained as she said, "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Dean. I didn't mean to—you know that, right?"

Dean didn't know what to say, but he reached for the now-young woman sitting beside him and pulled her close until his lips met hers.

They became a tangle of limbs and somehow made it to the backseat, shedding clothes as they went.

"Don't leave me," Mary begged when Dean seemed to pull away.

"I'm not going anywhere," Dean promised, but he stopped when he felt the scars on the back of Mary's left thigh. He looked at the very old scars, his fingers brushing against them. DW and SW… Just like the letters Dean and Sam had carved into the the underside of the backseat of the Impala when they were little kids.

He and Mary were suddenly sitting on the hood of the car, fully dressed, and Mary had reverted back to the age she'd been when Dean had first seen her. "Why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked, looking at the woman sitting next to him.

"Sometimes all I want to do is protect you and Sam," the woman replied, honestly. "I want to keep you safe and I want to see you happy like you used to be." But then a seductive look crossed her face as she added, "And other times… I just want it to be you and me." Looking out at a wide open field, she took a deep breath and let it out. "I want to be human. I want to be able to run in and save you and Sammy. I want to make love to you…" She sighed. "Best I get is an out of body experience."

Dean was quiet for the longest time, but finally, he asked, "So what now?" But before his companion could respond, he thought of another question. "Mary? You had to go with my mom's name?"

The Impala—or rather the Impala's physical manifestation—laughed. "Well, it's not like you or John gave me a name of my own! And for the record—'Baby' doesn't count." She took Dean's hand and gave him a smile. "I honestly forgot who I was. All I remembered was this promise to Mary Winchester to look out for her husband and her two little boys."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. "So what do we do now?"

She smiled again. "You wake up. You go back… and you fix me. We fix each other—just like it's always been."

Dean nodded wordlessly, and hesitated only slightly when he felt himself being pulled back to the world of the living.

* * *

><p>"So you're really doing this?"<p>

John Winchester looked up from where he was kneeling on the basement floor of the hospital. The woman standing before him was beautiful and dressed in a simple black dress, her black hair curled and hanging about her face.

The woman looked from John to the finished summoning ritual and back to John, her expression sad. "This is going to hurt them more than it will help," she said, quietly. "You know that, don't you?"

"What else can I do?" John snapped, angrily. "They're my sons."

"They're my boys, too, John," the woman reminded him. "Mary told me to protect them… and you."

John was quiet for a while but finally he asked, "Do Sam and Dean know? About you? Who you are?"

"Dean does," the Impala replied, nodding. "Sam sort of knows, but we haven't had a chance to talk yet." She was quiet for a while, but finally, she put a hand on John's uninjured arm. "I'll look after them. I promise."

John nodded, not sure of what to say. After a while, he watched the spirit that inhabited his '67 Chevy Impala vanish from sight.

"John Winchester…" a voice in the shadows said. After a moment, Azazel stepped out into the open, a twisted sort of smile on his face. "So that was the sweet little spirit that's set up shop in that car of yours? Nice." Giving John a look, he said, "So… You want to make a deal, do you? Your soul in exchange for my leaving your precious boys alone? That works just fine for me."

* * *

><p>AN: Again, I aplogize for the whole 'stream of consciousness' writing thing. But it does help me get out the chapters faster that waiting for my damn muse to get off it's lazy ass.


	7. Chapter 7

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I like the episode 'Everybody Loves a Clown' for two main reasons—the introduction of Ellen and Jo and the end of the episode where Dean wails on the Impala. There's so much raw emotion in that scene and I really wanted to include it in this story, especially what it must have been like for the Impala.

As for the end of this chapter, I thought it strange that Dean looses it at the end of 'ELaC' and at the start of the next episode, he's fine again. Sorry—not buying it.

Chapter 7

* * *

><p><em>Healing<em>

* * *

><p>Let me make one thing perfectly clear—cars DO feel pain.<p>

Every scratch and dent is felt just like humans feel cuts and bruises.

Of course as I sat in the yard behind Bobby Singer's house, I knew I wasn't the only one in pain.

Dean had been working on me from dusk till dawn ever since he got out of the hospital and every second he spent with me I could feel the pain and anger radiating off of him especially when Sam came out to check on his brother.

Something happened in the hospital—that much was clear. And I knew it had something to do with John's death.

Damnit, if John wasn't already dead, I'd have killed him myself. And even though I wanted so badly to tell my boys the truth about John's deal, I knew that it would devastate them.

And right now the boys had enough to deal with. Sam's guilt at not killing Yellow Eyes was eating him alive—not to mention the fact that Sam had picked a fight with his father right before the old man's death.

I had no idea what was going through Dean's mind. He didn't talk to anyone, least of all me. He was out working on fixing me the second the sun started rising and didn't quit until well after dark when Bobby would drag the poor kid inside to get some sleep.

Night of course, was when Sam would come out to talk to me. He would sit on the ground, back up against one of my wheels and either talk or just spend an hour or so crying before going for a walk around the scrap yard until his eyes didn't look so red.

Of course, the boys couldn't just sit around waiting until I was fixed. About a week after being at Bobby's, Sam and Dean headed out to check up on a lead on… something.

That left me and Bobby alone for a couple days.

Right after the boys headed out, Bobby came up to me, giving me a smile as he said, "You're not gonna try and eat me this time around, are ya?"

No, Bobby, not this time, I thought, wearily. I was too tired and hurting too much to really fight with the man. All I wanted was to feel like my old self again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I was starting to be in decent shape when the boys got back from their hunt.

Bobby couldn't do too much work on me since he had other cars to work on as well as other hunters to help out.

And while I'd been hoping that the hunt would give Dean a chance to mellow out, I wasn't surprised when he was still as stressed out and high strung as before.

When I saw Dean grab the tire iron, I braced myself for the blow. Sam had walked away after calling his brother out on lying about being okay and I knew Dean well enough that he was desperate to wail on someone or something.

He swung the tire iron and smashed the window of the car next to me before taking a swing at my trunk.

The look of anger and pain on Dean's face broke my heart and I could read his thoughts as clearly as if he was yelling them out loud.

He hated Yellow Eyes for taking both his parents!

He hated John for dying and leaving Sam and Dean alone in the fight—not to mention that goddamn promise to save Sammy or kill him!

He hated Ellen Harvelle for being so nice and making him miss his parents even more!

He hated Jo for trying to make him feel better!

He hated Ash for not having any immediate answers!

He hated Bobby for being more like a real father than John!

He hated Sam for not killing the demon when he had the chance!

And more than anything, Dean hated himself for not saving his father and for not telling Sam about what their dad had said before he died.

By now there was a sizable hole in my trunk and tears were streaming down Dean's face which was a mask of pain and rage. I wanted more than anything to be human again—to hold Dean close and comfort him. It hurt me more than anything to see one of my boys so torn up.

And then he started hitting me with his bare hands. He hit my frame over and over, screaming as he did so.

I wanted Bobby or Sam to come out and help Dean but it was actually almost 5 minutes before both came running. Dean was on the ground and I felt a rush of panic when I saw that he was having trouble breathing and his hands were bloody.

Bobby looked from Dean's hands to the blood smeared on my frame and quickly signaled Sam to help get Dean up.

I watched as the three hurried off and wondered if Dean would ever be alright again.

* * *

><p><em>(Non-Impala POV)<em>

Sam had spent too much time watching his brother lying in a hospital bed. Most of the time, it had been because some fugly bastard had beaten Dean up but a few times it had been something more mundane—Like the time Dean had had food poisoning and hadn't been able to stop throwing up.

John had taken Dean to the hospital and the nurses had admitted Dean for almost a week due to fever and dehydration.

This time felt even worse, though, than two weeks earlier.

Dean's left hand now bore 20 stitches and was wrapped in a clean bandage. His right hand and two middle fingers, however, was in a cast due to the two fingers being broken along with a bad sprain of the hand in question.

The upside, though, was that the doctors had sedated Dean. They believed that Dean had lashed out in grief after his father's death and all he needed was sleep and grief counseling.

Sam scoffed to himself as he recalled the doctor's words. Yeah, like talking about what had happened would solve everything. As much as he hated to these days, Sam hated his father right now. John Winchester had always insisted on keeping emotions in check and not talking about what was bothering you.

And that attitude was part of the reason Dean was now unconscious and drugged to the gills in the hospital.

But much as he wanted to say something Sam couldn't think of the words to articulate how he felt.

All he could do was sit next to his brother's bed and hope when he woke up, he'd be ready to talk.


End file.
